Highwayman: Ironside by Michael Arnold

manner. "You saw me in the hall."
    "I did. I knew it was you. Could tell by your eyes." She ran her free hand through hair that had been freed of the coif she had worn when first they met. The gesture mesmerised him. "Who are you supposed to be? I cannot imagine you were invited in person, sir, for where would they send the invitation?"
    He laughed at that. "Sir Ardell Early."
    She raised a single brow in amusement. "Not a great likeness, though perhaps similar in height. Besides, Sir Ardell is a bore, and not many here would know him."
    "That was my hope." He stepped forward a fraction. "Why did you not raise the alarm before? Why not now?"
    "My uncle is a vile man, Major. He despises me, I despise him. We must suffer one another, since he is my only living kinsman, but that does not compel me to like him." The corners of her mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. "And I like you. Lord knows why, but I do. I suppose you were kind to me, even as you threatened me with that ghastly pistol you carry." She shuddered, casting her gaze to the grass between them. "But will you tell me the truth?"
    "Truth?"
    Now she searched his face again, her dark visage illuminated by the warm glow from the house at her back. "They say you ride against the government for the memory of your late wife. Is that really why you turned outlaw?"
    He nodded. "Aye. She was murdered in vengeance for my betrayal. Her and my unborn child."
    Felicity's fingers went instinctively to her lips. "Oh, Lord. I am sorry, Major. Truly."
    He looked away, unable to meet her eye. "No matter." He found himself walking amongst the dense barricades of ivy and honeysuckle. She was with him. "The passage of time serves to numb the pain, if not the fury," he said after a short while. "I have rebuilt my life. Made my money. I am, I suppose, content. But I'll wage my private war until there is no more breath in my lungs."
    "And why did you betray them?" she asked tentatively.
    "I joined the Parliamentarian struggle when I was a child, Miss Mumford. Served under Cromwell at the age of sixteen at Naseby. A boy before the drums began to beat: a man after they fell silent. Campaigned against all the bitter uprisings of the second war and rode with our newly made force in the third. I saw many terrible things. Too many horrors to number. And yet none of that mattered when we went to Ireland. Women and children. The infirm, the weak. They were as rodents to us, and we exterminated them as we would a nation of rats. It was no longer war. I decided to ride away. A decision that I have paid for every moment since."
    They reached the end of one of the ivy corridors where it met with the sheer face of the high wall. The moonlight was shut out of this corner and it was utterly dark. "Why are you here, Major?" Felicity asked. "It is unimaginably dangerous for you."
    He hesitated, wondering whether a confession would be sheer folly. But she had known it was him, and done nothing about it. "I would free a prisoner held by Goffe's men," he said. "Your uncle's strongbox..."
    She smirked. "The one you ruined?"
    "Aye. It contained a letter mentioning this man. One James Wren. He will be transferred from Newbury to Portsmouth."
    "When?"
    The sounds of giggling carried to them on the breeze and they both looked round. Nothing came from the darkness. Another couple escaping the crowds.
    "That, Miss Mumford, is my difficulty," Lyle said. "It did not indicate when."
    "Watch the road," she suggested bluntly.
    He shook his head. "Wren was a prominent Cavalier. The guard will be heavy."
    She arched an eyebrow. "Too heavy for the great highwayman? Could you not leap out in surprise?"
    "Imagine a cat leaping out upon a flock of sparrows, only to discover that they’re hawks."
    She laughed at that. "So you require time to plan."
    He dipped his head. "I need to know when he will be moved. And I had hoped Sir Frederick would attend this evening."
    Her jaw dropped. "And you were simply going to ask